


kill and run

by ofjisoos (swelter)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, M/M, changed the rating to M just to be safe u feel, very light implied sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swelter/pseuds/ofjisoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>out of all the nine lives he’s lived, jisoo thinks this one might be one of the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kill and run

**Author's Note:**

> this came out of nowhere but i guess [ this ](http://66.media.tumblr.com/81cda27122d3bcb9c9d4e34441b620a9/tumblr_o7524gPJzC1t9n75fo1_500.jpg) kept me going ? also keep in mind that this is probably not historically accurate and i based the imagery off of the great gatsby so !!

out of all the nine lives he’s lived, jisoo thinks this one might be one of the worst. 

 

firstly, it’s his last. after going through eight cycles of the average human lifespan, he now has to deal with his inevitable mortality. it’s weird — scary, even — knowing that he won’t just bounce back into existence after his death like so many times before. secondly, he’s currently living in the 1920s. having mobile phones and laptops and the _internet_ had been a few of his favourite things whilst living in the 21st century, and there are none of those in his present. lastly, he’s betrothed to a girl he barely knows whilst having an illicit affair with a young military officer.

 

jisoo supposes it could be worse. he’s heard stories of lives far more tragic than any of his, and he’s not exactly complaining about his family’s wealth and the certainty of being heir to the hundred acres of land they own. money can buy neither love nor happiness, and all that, but he’s experienced enough to know that it’s generally easier (and faster) to get through a lifetime if you have the status and cash. 

 

a case in point being: now.

 

all he has to do to keep his whereabouts hidden is slide a couple of notes to the person manning the front desk — _soonyoung_ , his name tag says.

 

“room 202,” soonyoung picks up the key from the array hanging on the board behind him and turns to pass it on to jisoo, “enjoy your stay.” there’s a slight suggestive glint in his eye that jisoo returns with a small smile and a nod, thanking him for the promise he’s meant to keep.

 

the cheap flooring makes a squeak when jisoo turns to walk towards the elevator, a rickety thing with rusted metal doors and a carpet that’d make his mother scream with dismay at how frayed it is. it takes him up to the second floor just fine, and jisoo heads over to the door marked with numbers matching the ones on his key.

 

“you didn’t have to knock,” seungcheol says when he opens the door. 

 

“manners maketh man,” jisoo spiels what he’s been told countless of times. he lets himself through, taking seungcheol’s hand and leading him to the bed. 

 

“you’re dressed awfully nice today,” seungcheol leans against the headboard. his hands come to rest on jisoo’s waist when the other straddles him. 

 

ignoring his remark, jisoo shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it aside. he leans in to nip at seungcheol’s bottom lip and a keen noise escapes the back of his throat when seungcheol tightens his grip on his waist.

 

they were worlds apart. they still are. jisoo notices the way seungcheol’s fingers flinch when they come in contact with the expensive material of jisoo’s shirt, carefully slipping it off of him as if it’ll tear at the slightest tug. he doesn’t kiss as delicately — all wandering hands and bruising teeth, the way jisoo likes it. he likes that seungcheol is completely different from the other aspects of his life. rough around the edges, improper, filthy.

 

the curses jisoo rasps out would alarm just about anyone he knows besides seungcheol. for most of this life, he carries the pretence of being a proper gentleman, just as he’d been raised. seungcheol brings out the best of the worst in him, a liberating break from the etiquette he’s expected to adhere to in the day. seungcheol’s far from being a virtuoso, but he’s capable of bringing jisoo to a high that crescendoes in the most spectacular way. 

 

the aftermath is jisoo’s favourite part. his chest thrums with euphoria and his naked body is slick with sweat and he has seungcheol’s marks everywhere on him. the best part is that he almost forgets what he’ll come home to in the morning. 

 

“c’mon, i’m curious,” seungcheol presses his forehead against jisoo’s temple. “what were you dressed so properly for?” 

 

jisoo’s expression immediately sours. he edges away from seungcheol, straightening to sit up and let the sheets pool around the brackets of his hipbones. 

 

“i had to meet the wedding planner with my parents.”

 

“are they still set on having the ice sculpture made in your likeness?” seungcheol chuckles, propping himself on an elbow and looking up at jisoo. 

 

“fortunately, no. but the cake is disgustingly massive and the amount of flowers could possibly tear the place down.” jisoo shakes his head. 

 

he goes on to describe the monstrosities proposed to him by the wedding planner. before he knows it, he’s off on a tangent about his parents’ insistence on forcing their choices onto him, and the pressure building up to becoming an heir to their endless wealth, and the lack of warmth exchanged between him and his fiancée. seungcheol just listens patiently, giving the appropriate responses and tracing circles on jisoo’s skin. 

 

 

(circles. they’d gone after each other in circles. 

 

it was a long game of push-and-pull, inhibited stares at each other from across rooms with extravagant crystal decor and blinding chandeliers. the first time they’d met was at one of the famous wen estate parties — jisoo had, of course, been one of the first to get an invitation, considering his close friendship with the host.

 

much ado had been made about jisoo’s presence, no thanks to wen junhui himself, who made it clear to anyone who would listen that jisoo was the city’s most eligible bachelor of the month. that had resulted in jisoo spending most of the night entertaining a crowd of ladies vying for his attention. 

 

but in the midst of the roaring music, the free-flowing alcohol, and the flashy burlesque dancers, he only had eyes for one of the military officers seated at a table near the stage, who seemed to return his interest justly.

 

jisoo eventually managed to tear away from the rest of the crowd and get seungcheol on his own.

 

it’d taken a few more similar meetings for them to brave more intimate moves beyond not-so-accidental touches and lingering hugs between each other. 

 

when seungcheol kissed jisoo for the first time, jisoo had just about lost his breath, head spinning as he said, “took you long enough.”)

 

 

“you know, the wedding actually sounds rather nice.”

 

jisoo blinks. “i didn’t have ‘gaudy and extortionate’ down as your ideal aesthetic.” he sighs. “enough of this. i’m getting a headache just thinking about being trapped at the tailor’s for next week’s fitting.”

 

seungcheol laughs, a distinctive sound that jisoo’s learned to recognise even in a crowded room. he reaches over to the bedside table and lights up a cigarette. he rolls it between his fingers and places it right at the corner of his mouth the way jisoo knows he does, exhaling the smoke upwards. his eyes follow the wisps floating towards the cracked plaster of the ceiling. 

 

“don’t,” jisoo nudges him, frowning. “it kills you.”

 

“not as much as you do,” seungcheol grins. somehow, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he cups jisoo’s face with his free hand, stroking his cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. 

 

jisoo rolls his eyes. “you’re lucky you’re so pretty.” he can’t help but soften into the other’s touch, regardless. 

 

“and your future bride isn’t?” seungcheol quips. the bitterness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “i’ve seen her before, you know, in the papers. you’re a lucky guy.” 

 

jisoo recalls doll-like features — doe eyes, pert nose, heart-shaped mouth, waves of long hair, slim figure — but none of those appeal to him. 

 

even upon first meeting when he’d shaken her hand, he’d longingly thought of short strands filling the spaces between his fingers and an unbelievably skilful mouth making his hips stutter on nights like this. nights spent in a worn-down motel with musty furniture and showers with bad water pressure that don’t exactly scream ‘romantic’, yes, but it’s not like they have much of a choice.

 

“anyway, i’m just upset i won’t be there at the fitting,” seungcheol says wryly, pressing the cigarette butt into an ash tray. “a day watching you come in and out of dressing stalls in different suits sounds like a day well spent.” he slips out of the sheets, off of the bed, and pads over to the window with the curtains drawn. he peers outside. 

 

“the city just never rests, does it?”

 

“seungcheol,” jisoo stares at the expanse of seungcheol’s bare back, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said so much. “i’m sorry.”

 

“honestly,” seungcheol doesn’t turn around. “i’ve never seen anything like it. where i come from, everyone goes to sleep by 10. here, the cars line up on the streets even until dawn.”

 

“come back to bed,” jisoo urges, “please.” he wants to take back the petulant complaints about his stupid life, and his stupid parents, and his stupid wedding. he wants seungcheol’s arms around him again, sleeping away the deadweight of the air around them. 

 

this time, seungcheol draws back the curtain and turns to look at him. his eyes burn with resolution, but it’s the kind that comes with forcing out the truth between gritted teeth. 

 

“i won’t be here tomorrow.”

 

a beat of silence. jisoo hears the deafening thumps of his heartbeat in his ears.

 

“i’ve been stationed somewhere else,” seungcheol continues, the expression on his face unreadable. “that’s why it was so important to me that i meet you tonight.”

 

it’s true — the small note jisoo had received a couple of hours ago had expressed urgency, but jisoo had just assumed it was because they hadn’t seen each other for an extensive period of time. he remembers the automatic anticipation overcoming him, the first crack of a smile appearing on his face today. had he known this was the outcome, it would have been a given that his reaction would be a completely different one.

 

“and you decided to tell me now,” jisoo’s voice is hollow. his chest aches, but his body is unfeeling everywhere else. he finds his fingers curling around the sheets and clenching till his knuckles blanch with the pressure. 

 

“i didn’t know how to break it to you.” 

 

“so that’s it, then?”

 

“you’re- you’re getting married soon, jisoo.” there’s a tremble in seungcheol’s tone despite his empty expression. “i can’t get in the way of that. it’s only fair to both of us that we go our separate ways.”

 

jisoo nods numbly. “right. you’re right.” his mind rushes to school his entire being to stay composed. it recites, _in a gentleman’s own self-control under difficult or dangerous circumstances, lies his chief ascendancy over others who impulsively betray every emotion which animates them_. his stomach churns in response, but he recognises the gravity of those words.

 

“i’m sorry.” 

 

seungcheol tastes like regret and melancholy, and jisoo can barely let him slip away. but he does. he watches seungcheol gather his clothes and put them on, running his fingers through unruly dark hair. when he leaves, he doesn’t spare jisoo a last glance. 

 

when he leaves, the sun’s starting to seep through the curtains, an optimistic start to a sickeningly bleak day ahead.

 

jisoo finds it in him to clamber out of bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion. he turns the tap on the bath, and blankly watches the sluggish flow of water filling up the tub. 

 

out of all the nine lives he’s lived, this is the only one in which jisoo loses seungcheol, and never gets him back. 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback would be much appreciated! :)


End file.
